On a hot day of bold sun and stingy breezes that seemed to claim summer would never end, she sat in her favorite spot. Because she wanted to read, her fishing pole hung magickally suspended over the stream.

She could make the fish bite the bait, but such powers—she’d been taught—were only to be used to feed real hunger.

Birds called now and again. She heard an occasional rustle in the understory. If she hadn’t been deep in her book, she would have tested herself to identify the sounds. Deer, rabbit, squirrel, fox, bear. And more rarely, man.

But she enjoyed letting herself slide into a story—a really scary one—about a young boy with a gift, with a shining (a light), trapped in an old hotel with evil.

She didn’t pay attention to the plop of the water, even when it repeated. Not when the bushes shaped like animals outside the evil hotel moved, not when they threatened the boy.

But the gurgling voice got her attention.

Her heart, already racing from the story, gave one hard thud as she heard her name whispered in that watery voice. And the water in the stream rippled.

Cautiously, she set the book aside and rose, one hand on the knife in her belt.

“What magick is this?” she murmured.

Was it a sign? Was it something dark come to call?

Her name came again, and the water seemed to shudder, to writhe. Butterflies that had danced along the water’s edge swarmed away in a buttercup-colored cloud.

And the air went silent as a grave.

Well, she wasn’t a little boy in a book, she reminded herself, stepping closer to the edge of the stream.

“I’m Fallon Swift,” she called out over the beat of blood in her ears. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“I have no name. I am all names.”

“What do you want?”

A single finger of water rose up from the rippling stream. It only took her a second to recognize which finger, and the meaning. But it was a second too late.

They hit her from behind, three against one. She face-planted in the water, then surfaced to the sounds of her brothers’ hilarity.

After she swiped her dripping hair out of her eyes, she found the bottom with her feet, stood.

“It took three of you, and an ambush.”

“ ‘Who are you?’ ” Colin repeated in a quaking voice. “ ‘What do you want?’ You should’ve seen your face!”

“Nice to see how you accept apologies.”

“You deserved it. Now we’re even.”

Maybe she had deserved it, and she had to give him credit for biding his time, enlisting his brothers. Even more, she had to admire the complexity and creativity of the trick.

But.

She considered her options, the humiliation if she failed, and decided to take the risk.

She’d been practicing.

While her brothers laughed and did their victory dance, she spoke to her horse, mind to mind. Moving forward, Grace head-butted Colin into the water.

“Hey!” Shorter than Fallon, he tread water, managed to find his footing. “No fair.”

“Neither is three against one.”

Mad with laughter, Ethan jumped in. “I wanna swim, too.”

“What the heck.” Travis toed off his shoes, cannonballed in.

While the boys splashed and dunked each other, Fallon rolled over to float. This time she spoke mind to mind with Travis.

This was your work.

Yeah.

I apologized.

Yeah, but he needed this. And it was fun.

He turned his head, smiled at her.

Plus, it’s a hot day.

The middle finger was rude.

But funny.

She couldn’t hold back her own smirk. But funny. I need a few minutes alone with Colin.

Jeez, it’s just water.

Not about that. Even steven. I just need a few minutes.

His gaze sharpened on hers. He saw, he knew, as he usually did. He started to speak out loud, then turned away. Only nodded.

She waded out of the stream, climbed out. After whisking her hands down her body to dry off, she stowed her book, her rod.

“We have to get back,” she called out.

She ignored the whining—mostly Ethan’s—gave a come-ahead gesture. “We’ve got to help with dinner, start the evening chores.”

Travis climbed out; Fallon dried him off.

“Thanks.”

She had to crouch down to help Ethan out.

“It’s funny to swim in your clothes.”

She poked him lightly in the nose. “It wouldn’t be so funny if you had to walk home in wet, squeaky shoes.”

She dried them, then his pants, then the faded Under Armour shirt she knew had once been scavenged for Colin.

After taking up Grace’s reins, she turned to Colin.

“Come on.” He waved a hand at her. “You paid me back for paying you back.”

“I’ll dry you off if you give me your word you’re not going to pay me back for paying you back.”

He hesitated for a minute, then just grinned. “I had a good one I’m working on, but I can save it until the next time you’re a bitchy bitch. Probably won’t take long.”

She stuck out her hand. “But this round’s done.”

“Done.”

They shook on it.

Dry again, he glanced around. “Why’d they take off?”

“I told Travis I needed to talk to you.”

Suspicion and retaliation gleamed in his eyes. “We said done and shook.”

“Not about that.” She began to walk, the horse plodding lazily behind. “It’s almost my birthday.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“My thirteenth birthday.”

“So?” With a shrug he found a stick to bang on trees as they walked. “You’re probably going to start kissing boys and putting bows in your hair. Dopey.”

“I’ll have to leave.”

“And you’re going to get to drive the truck. I could drive the truck. I don’t see why you get to do everything first.”

“Colin, I won’t be here to drive the truck. I’ll have to go.”

“Go where?”

She saw the knowledge flash over his face. Her parents hadn’t held the story of Mallick, of The One, of two years of training away from home a secret.

Furious denial immediately followed knowledge. “That’s bullshit. You’re not going anywhere. That’s just a bullshit story.”

He liked to swear, Fallon thought idly. He swore at every opportunity out of their parents’ hearing.

“It’s not. And when he comes, I’ll have to go with him.”

“I said bullshit.” Furious, red-faced with it, Colin heaved the stick away. “I don’t care who this weird guy is, he’s not going to make you go. We’ll stop him. I’ll stop him.”

“He won’t make me. He can’t make me. But I have to go with him.”

“You want to go.” Bitter now. So young, so bitter now. “You want to go off and pretend you’re some big-deal Savior. Pretend you’re The One who’s going to save the world. Just more bullshit.”

He shoved her, hard.

“You’re not so damn special, and there’s nothing wrong with the stupid world. Look at it!”

He flung out his hands to the thick woods, the dappled sunlight, the verdant peace of late summer.

“This isn’t the world, just our part of it, and even that may be threatened.”

It rose up in her, rose so fast, so hot, it left her breathless. “You look at it. See the world.”

She lifted her hands, flung them apart like whipping open a curtain.

A battle raged, dark and bloody. Buildings in rubble, others aflame. Bodies, torn and mangled, lay across … sidewalks, she realized. Streets and sidewalks of a city, a once great city.

Gunfire ripped across the still woods, and screams followed. Lightning struck, black and red, exploding chasms where more fell.

Some flew on wings that slashed through flesh. Some flew on wings that tried to shield.

Uncannys, dark and light, people, good and evil, waging war over the blood of those already fallen.

“Stop it.” Colin gripped her arm as she stood, transfixed. “Stop it, stop it.”